The Town With No Name That Once Had One

The quiet hum of hidden devices exploded into an angry chorus of alarms, lights flashing around her in an incomprehensible pattern that seemed to be trying to tell her something, yet failed utterly to do so. A metal bar secured itself around her waist, and she panicked, flaring out her wings to try to escape the chair. Her panic was not at all lessened as a strip of the floor began to open up, revealing an enormous rail with metal hooks that clamped onto her chair. She flapped uselessly, like a fly caught in a web, as the rail began to angle down to reveal the misty clouds below.

She gritted her teeth, flailing about and attacking the chair itself in a last-ditch effort to escape. A high-pitched whine started to grow, piercing the air until letting itself out in one deep pulse, shooting the chair forward into the clouds.

Wind blasted her face with a deafening roar as she tried to slow her decent with her wings. Her cry of pain was lost as the sheer force behind the air contorted her wings back behind her the moment she exposed them. She could see the ground now, approaching all too rapidly, and forced her wings out from behind the chair as far as they would go, letting out a yelp as she felt a sickening crack resonate through her body before a wave of pain followed. Her wings were forced behind her lopsidedly, sending her spiraling through the air as she rapidly approached the ground. Her decent was slowed, but it wasn't easy to tell as she blinked back tears that forced their way out.

She did her best to angle her legs towards the ground, but her wings were long past the point of co-operation, the uncontrolled pirouetting making her dizzy on top of the pain. The ground was growing dangerously close, and she kicked feebly at one of the wheels on the bottom of the chair. It was, somewhat amusingly, still spinning furiously from the initial launch, grinding to a disappointed hault as she pressed against it with her shoe. She made one last effort to get her wings under control, but only succeeded in facing herself up towards the sky, not even able to see the ground coming anymore but knowing its arrival was imminent. She cursed, and closed her eyes.

She hit the ground with a wet snap that rippled along her body, her breaths coming short as she found herself unable to breathe properly. Her side grew wet as she lay in a growing pool of what she could only assume was her own blood, eyes still screwed shut. In what was surely meant to be a sick joke, the restraint against her waist finally released, landing her onto the remains of what had once been her right wing.

It was surely a miracle that she had survived the fall at all, though as a sharp bone stabbed into her side, she briefly considered how much of a relief the alternative might have been. She moved an arm, pushing herself weakly off the ground to take the pressure off the worst injuries only to find there was no position that didn’t leave her in excruciating pain. She tested her legs, covered in bruises but mercifully intact, and suppressed a scream as she managed to prop herself up on one arm, leaving her to inspect the gruesome damage.

The scene in front of her made her sick, close to throwing up, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the carnage that had once been a source of freedom and pride. The feathers were thoroughly stained with a dark, wet red that stuck to the ground, blending the two into a singular pool with a coagulating film along the top that gave it a revoltingly thick texture. The bones to which the feathers were still mostly attached had been shattered beyond recognition, with white knives jutting out into the air horrifically.

She forced herself to look away. Anything to keep her attention away from the nauseating scene attached to her own body, anything that would keep her mind away from the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. Her eyes settled on a road sign in front of her, an all too familiar road sign. The sign welcomed her into a gray, crushingly drab suburb, picket fences and crushing hopelessness stretching on into infinity. The sign's name had been scratched off long ago, whether by time or human it was impossible to say. Yet she sat on the other side of the sign now. There was nothing to take her back inside but her own masochism.

She'd done it. The town had given her an impossible problem, and she'd solved it anyway. She was free once again! She tried to force out a laugh, but a stabbing pain in her side reminded her that she was still trapped by the confines of her own body.

As the shock wore off, she found that her legs were still able to support her, though reluctantly and with much complaint. She hobbled upright, swaying precariously to the side as her head spun in protest. It was then that she looked back, a new wave of nausea washing over her.

The bases of her wings had entirely snapped, leaving them both dangling pitifully to the ground. Her right wing, having taken the brunt of the fall, had fared worst of all; the bone had detached entirely, leaving only a flap of skin and muscle still connected. Her left wing had fared slightly better, the bone making an effort to stay upright but ultimately failing, leaving the wing to drag along the ground uselessly just like the other. It was a miracle in and of itself that she’d lost feeling in all but the base of her wings; judging by the state they were in, she imagined she’d be be a screaming heap on the ground instead of trying and failing to hold back tears if she could feel it all.

She limped forward, away from the entrance to the town. Surely any pain was worth leaving it behind forever, but her body still ached all over. It was a struggle to put one foot in front of the other, but by now she’d grown well experienced in managing to move forward anyway. Her broken wings dragged through the dried grass beneath her, collecting dirt and refuse in the bloodied feathers. The fence around the town, once infinite and insurmountable, now had a clearly defined edge. Beyond that, it was hard to say. The clouds, however, thinned out far in the distance, revealing an unbroken blue sky that made her yearn to be back in the sky. She tried not to dwell on it too much. It was clear that these wings would never fly again.

The remains of a hand mirror lay discarded along the fence, a final petty revenge thrown at her by the clouds, the last shred of power they held outside of the town. It was a good attempt to shake her, but ultimately an ineffective one. Looking at the mirror, through its webbed cracks, she felt no anger, nor fear. She’d more than proven herself to the world, and more importantly, to herself. She knew who she was now: a survivor.

Perhaps the mirror could still serve some use. She dragged herself over, picking up the cracked handle. Without warning she snapped the back of the mirror in half against her knee, leaving just a jagged edge holding onto the handle. Gritting her teeth, she drew the makeshift blade behind her, unable to suppress a scream as she sliced off the last bit of flesh holding her right wing to her body. The wing fell to the ground with a thud, sending up a puff of dust that stuck to the blood clinging to the feathers that hadn’t yet managed to dry.

She steeled herself as she passed the blade to her other hand, squeezing her eyes shut as she drew it close once again. She didn’t even try to hold back this time, letting out all her pain, and suffering, and anger in one long scream that echoed up into the clouds above. They heard her for sure, but she screamed anyway. Let the clouds have their satisfaction; she was beyond caring anymore. She fell to her knees, looking back at the wings one last time. Maybe their promise of freedom and peace had been true, but it hardly mattered anymore. She looked forward past the clouds, to the blue sky beyond, before falling into a dreamless sleep.